The Tragedy of Prince Escalus
by MoaLeigh
Summary: Sequel to Caskets of Lead. Antonio has lost his memory and Bassanio struggles with whether or not to end his engagement with Portia. Shylock continues to scheme to get the power he hungers for. Will Antonio and Bassanio finally find happiness, or will they burn for their sin?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello again my lovelies! Antonio and Bassanio are back! If this is the first you have heard of either of these dashing young men, I am assuming you haven't read Caskets of Lead yet. If that is the case, this story will make absolutely no sense. I am not one for recap so I suggest reading the first story first. This story is going to be based loosely on** ** _The Tragedy of Julius Caesar_** **just as Caskets of Lead was based on** ** _Merchant of Venice_** **. Both original plays belong to the magnanimous William Shakespeare, and the adaptations belong to my imagination. I am not making any money off these stories, just pure enjoyment** **J** **Any and all critiques and comments are very much appreciated. I am bumping up the rating on this story as some of the scenes are going to be rather more graphic. Oh yes. I'm talking about SEX! I apologize for the wait, so without further ado, here we go.**

 _Tempt not a desperate man._

~William Shakespeare

Chapter One – A Costly Price

Bassanio was speechless. He stared at Antonio, whose handsome face was tight with anger. His slate grey eyes were dark and the tendons in his neck stood out in stark relief. A single bead of sweat traced a wet trail down his temple.

"What?" Bassanio whispered hoarsely.

"You seem to know me, or, more likely, you are insane," Antonio snapped. "However, I certainly don't know you."

"I'm your best friend…" Bassanio whispered.

"Unlikely," Antonio muttered.

Bassanio clenched his fists; fear and anger were making his hands shake. "Is this your idea of a joke?!"

"Do I look to be joking to you?" Antonio asked icily. "I want you to leave."

"Is this some kind of pay back, is that it?" Bassanio shouted. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, I never meant to… I never wanted to… But I've changed my mind, I swear!"

Antonio pointed through his open door. "This is ridiculous, get out!"

Bassanio was speechless. Luckily, at that moment Antonio's mother Lady Adrianna, Vincenzo the butler, and American Lady Alice (irritatingly perfect Alice) burst into the room. Lady Adrianna gasped, staring at Antonio's smooth, uninjured chest. Antonio saw Alice, blushed, and quickly buttoned up his shirt.

"My son, you're…" Adrianna whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "You're… Praise God…"

"I'm sorry I scared you, Mama," Antonio said. "I'm healed; it must have happened during the night…"

"But how?" Vincenzo asked, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Does it matter?" Antonio's mother cried, going to her son and embracing him. "It's a miracle!" Bassanio saw Alice's lips tighten and her slender blonde brows pinch into a frown, just for a moment.

Bassanio pointed to Adrianna and turned to Antonio, "Do you recognize her?"

"My mother?" Antonio asked skeptically. "The woman who gave birth to me? Of course I recognize her!"

Bassanio pointed to Alice. "And her?"

"Now you're just being rude, boy," Antonio snapped.

"Boy?!" Bassanio exclaimed indignantly.

Adrianna looked from one young man to the other, clearly confused. "What's going on?"

"He's pretending like he doesn't know me!" Bassanio shouted, pointing accusingly at Antonio. Panic was starting to creep in, but he pushed it aside and focused on the anger. _This is a joke, it has to be a joke!_

"That is because I _don't_ know you!" Antonio yelled, clenching his fists.

"Stop acting like an ass!"

Antonio froze, his eyes wide with anger and astonishment. "…What did you just say to me?"

"I said you're being an ass!" Bassanio shouted.

Antonio's face darkened, like storm clouds rolling across an empty sky. He crossed the space between them in three powerful strides, his right arm drawn back. Bassanio had tussled with Antonio enough time to know his opening moved by heart. Antonio was big and strong, but Bassanio was fast and had knobby elbows and knees that Antonio had taught him how to use (unfortunately for him). Bassanio ducked under Antonio's right hook and drove his elbow into Antonio's stomach. Antonio grunted and both men went down. Bassanio knew he had to end this fight quickly; Antonio had taught him that one, too: When your opponent is larger, stronger, and more experienced than you, use your assets to end the fight as quickly as possible.

Bassanio tried to pin Antonio's arms with his legs, but Antonio locked his ankles in front of Bassanio and threw him onto his back. Antonio made to leap onto Bassanio but Vincenzo grabbed him by the collar and hauled him to his feet, just like he had when they were boys wrestling in the garden when Antonio was supposed to be with his tutors.

"You're lying!" Bassanio shouted from the floor, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the carpeted floor rather soundly. "We've been best friends since we were boys!"

Adrianna went to Bassanio and helped him up. She turned to her son, "Antonio, what in the world has gotten into you?!"

Antonio roughly shrugged Vincenzo off. "This boy just… He was in my room when I woke up and he's saying all these crazy things-"

Bassanio's heart leapt in his throat. He couldn't let Antonio repeat his confession in front of everyone. "I-I'll go, it's alright."

Antonio threw his door open even wider. "Good! And don't come back, _ever_!"

Bassanio shoved past him, refusing to meet his eyes. He didn't want Antonio to see the tears he was fighting to hold back. Antonio's door slammed behind him and Bassanio broke into a run. He would need to borrow a horse; there was a certain someone who had a lot of explaining to do.

When he got to the stable he nearly ran into one of the barn hands, a young man that looked not much older than him, but was at least twice his size. The young man said something in English and chuckled.

"I don't speak bloody English," Bassanio shouted at him. "Let me pass!"

"I said take it easy, lad," the young man said again in thickly accented Italian. "Who are you?"

"Everyone here knows me," Bassanio snapped. "I need a horse, let me by! I'm a… a friend of Antonio's, um, Lord Romano's…""

The young man had Bassanio by the shoulders and was holding him back. He frowned skeptically, "You don't look like anyone that would be associated with the Romano family."

"Why?! Because I am not dressed like a pompous aristocrat?! Let me go, you bastard-!"

"Gideon," Sergio, the elderly stable master said, "Let the boy go. He speaks the truth, he's a friend of the family. Why do you need a horse so bad, Bassanio? Is his lordship worse?"

"No, no, Antonio's fine," Bassanio said dismissively. _Fine being a relative term…_ "I need a horse for another very urgent matter, Sergio. I promise I'll bring it back, and I won't ride too hard-"

"You're a fine horseman, Bassanio, I trust you," Sergio nodded. "Gideon, get him a horse."

The young man nodded and ducked back into the stable. Within minutes, Bassanio was galloping through the gates to the Romano estate and pounding down the cobblestone streets. He had reasonable confidence that he could find Lady Calpurnia's house again, even though it had been dark… and deep in the woods…

 _God,_ please _help me find that blasted witch again…_

The trip with Dr. Marcos had taken maybe half an hour; it took Bassanio four hours before he found the house again. By the time he dismounted in front of Lady Calpurnia's stately brick house, he and his horse were both winded and sweating. Nevertheless, he pounded up the stairs to the front door and pounded on it until Mrs. Brantley, Lady Calpurnia's maid, finally opened up.

She squinted suspiciously up at him. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"My name is Bassanio, I was here last night with Dr. Marcos. I need to see Lady Calpurnia immediately."

Mrs. Brantley tried to force the door closed, but Bassanio's hand was in the way. "My Lady is sleeping, come back later."

"It's urgent!" Bassanio cried, pushing his shoulder into the door. She was strong for an old bird.

"She was up all night helping you lot!" Mrs. Brantley grunted. "My Lady needs to rest now. Go away!"

"I am very sorry for this," Bassanio muttered. He threw all his weight into the door, knocking the poor old woman onto her backside with a, "Oof!" of alarm. Bassanio strode past her and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Lady Calpurnia! Where are you?! Lady Calpurnia!"

Lady Calpurnia appeared on the stairwell, fastening a dressing gown around her person. "What in the world is the meaning of this?"

Bassanio was vibrating with fury and frustration and exhaustion. "You tricked me! Antonio doesn't know who I am!"

Lady Calpurnia sighed and began to descend, leisurely. "I told you to not come running to me if you didn't like the price of his health. Although I should feel flattered if I were you. Antonio holds his memories of you in equal regard to his own life."

"I already know that!" Bassanio snapped. "He tries to die for my sake on a regular basis these days. I want you to give the memories back!"

"I cannot do that," Lady Calpurnia said, a note of regret in her voice. "If I return his memories to him, the sickness will return as well. Antonio has to pay the price and, if you ask me, he got off easy. He could have woken up blind or his family could have died or worse."

"But…" Bassanio whispered. "He doesn't know who I am…"

Lady Calpurnia gave him a withering look, as if he were demanding surgery for a paper cut. "Unfortunate. Now, if you'll excuse me, I had a late night last night and I am quite tired." She walked back up the stairs, and Bassanio watched her go until he heard her door slam.

"Will you please leave now?" Mrs. Brantley asked. Bassanio shuffled numbly out and the door was slammed so hard behind him that he was nearly knocked off his feet. He slowly mounted, and very slowly rode back to the Romano estate. He felt… cold, lost, empty… Knowing that Antonio had not only forgotten him but now hated him…

Bassanio drew a ragged breath as he stared up at Antonio's window. Figures were moving around inside. Antonio was… a cornerstone, a pillar of his life. How could he not realize a huge part of his memories and emotions were missing? Was this penance for all the times he had unknowingly caused Antonio to suffer? Now Bassanio had to suffer while his friend was oblivious?

Not just his friend, his lover… Bassanio had sworn to call off his engagement to Portia in order to be with Antonio. Was it still necessary? Did he still want to marry Portia when he knew now that he would always love another more?

 _I don't want to be alone…_

He cringed away from the thought. Lady Calpurnia had been right, his love was weak and worthless. If he really loved Antonio he would call off the wedding and pine for him the way Antonio had always pined for Bassanio. But he… he just couldn't. Why add Portia's heartbreak to this mess?

 _A poor excuse to avoid the hardship of ending a relationship even though it's the right thing to do… Portia deserves a man who will love her with all his heart._

A man shoved past Bassanio. He blinked and realized he was in front of the Saucy Sailor, a tavern near the waterfront. He looked through a window and saw a few sailors playing cards. He reached into his pocket and felt a few coins.

 _I'm down on my luck and I have nothing left to lose… This could either work for or against me…_

 _I shouldn't start again…_

 _I'm tired. So tired of… Just so tired…_

Bassanio removed the coins and ducked into the tavern.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your patience with me. I must admit this sequel has been really hard to format as far as plots go, but you know what, I just have to go for it and fix plot holes as I go! Thank you times a million for your reviews, I hope this conclusion to Antonio and Bassanio's storylines is everything you all want it to be. I can't wait to write the last part, can I just skip to that? No? Damn. Also, BASSATONIO4EVER? I love you let's get married. Thank you!** **J** **Also if you are Wiccan or Pagan I have huge respect for your beliefs, I pulled all of the spells and stuff for the magic users in this story right out of my butt. So if I offend anyone I'm very sorry.**

 _Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall._

~William Shakespeare

Chapter Two - Feste

Antonio tugged nervously at the cuffs of his shirt where they poked out from his jacket. He glanced across the table to his mother, who was looking absently out of the large dining room window. She had hardly spoken to him after his altercation with the strange blonde boy in his room, except to tell him he should be ashamed of his behavior.

Antonio reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded up letter Shylock had intercepted from the Commissioned Officer in Charge of Overseas Trade, sent to inform his mother of her husband's presumed death at sea as his trade ship, the _Bella Donna,_ had never made port. He had previously decided to wait until Alice went home before telling his mother so she could grieve privately, but Alice was going to be staying for at least three weeks. Unless Antonio proposed to her like his mother wanted him to. That would significantly extend her stay in Italy… And three weeks was a long time to keep the secret of his father's death. And truthfully he just wanted a comrade in his grief…

"Mother…" he began slowly. She looked away from the window, a mildly reproachful look still in her eyes. "There's something I need to tell you, and I'm afraid it's not good." He handed her the letter. "Shylock intercepted this letter several months ago. When he received it, he planned Portia's kidnap, her ransom, and used that to manipulate me into signing a bond that would have ended my life. It says… The letter says that father is dead… His ship never came into port and there has been no word of him…"

Lady Romano's eyes softened and grew sad. She took the letter, set it aside, and embraced her son. "Oh, Antonio… I know. When I was in America I received this same letter. Someone with connections to our family must have informed them where I was and sent two letters to insure I received them."

Antonio frowned. "How long have you known?"

Lady Romano looked a little sheepish as she admitted: "About a month…"

"Why didn't you write to me?" Antonio protested. He had been agonizing over whether or not to tell her, not to mention mourning his father on his own, and she had already known longer than him?!

"For the same reason, I think, that you didn't mention in to me when I first got back," his mother said gently. "You were waiting for the right time to tell me. I thought about writing when I got the letter but I was… I was very distraught. You will understand one day when you're married. As soon as I could gather up enough wits I left for Italy with Miss Alice. It made writing seem a little pointless; I would probably arrive before the letter anyway."

"I understand…" Antonio murmured. "I just wish we could have been together to comfort each other…"

Lady Romano took both of his large, rough hands in her small soft ones. "We are together now, love. I am so sorry you have to step into your father's shoes so young. I know that you will make him proud."

Antonio's throat felt tight and he tried to hide his mixed feelings. He did not want to run the family business, marry a girl and continue on the Romano line, which made him feel-

 _Wait a second… Jesus Christ I haven't had sex in over a year! How can that be…? Am I losing my-_

"What's wrong, Toni?" His mother was looking at him with concern. She must have seen the alarm on his face.

"N-nothing, I promise," he blushed. "Thanks, Mama… For believing in me. I will do my best to make you and Father proud."

"I'm already the proudest mama in the world," she replied, her voice choked with emotion. Antonio's face grew warmer; would she still be proud if she knew all he was thinking about now was his last summer's conquests? That had been a good few months… And then nothing.

 _What in God's name happened to me?_

"Well?" Shylock snapped.

The boy's entire body trembled visibly, even through his dark brown cloak. "H-High Priest, I-I bring news o-of…"

" _Remove your hood in my presence,_ " Shylock seethed through gritted teeth. The boy hastily yanked the hood of his cloak back and revealed a wane, pimpled face and mousy brown hair. His eyes were glued to the stone floor, not daring to meet Shylock's black orbs.

"I bring you n-news, my l-liege, of your cousin Antonio Romano," the boy managed to stammer out.

"Is he dead?" Shylock asked, his voice low and threatening, daring the boy to give him bad news.

The boy drew a strangled breath, shaking so hard now that he could have been seizing. He tried to speak several times but failed. Shylock drew in a breath to scream at him but before he could a rough voice intervened:

"Enough, Romano, he can't tell you anything if he's fainted." A man in his late fifties left the peripherals of Shylock's view, where he had previously been seated, and approached the terrified boy. "Feste, isn't it? Come, sit."

"Don't baby him, Malvolio," Shylock rumbled. Malvolio was Shylock's right hand man, even though he was 20 years Shylock's senior. He was the only member of the coven's larger Inner Court that Shylock had trusted to promote to Third Degree.

Malvolio was also the only living person who could get away with ignoring Shylock completely. He poured Feste, a greener than green member of the Outer Court that hadn't even reached his one year mark yet, a cup of tea from the batch Shylock had just brewed for himself.

"Now Feste," Malvolio said calmly, pulling up a wicker chair next to the boy. "Why don't you take a moment to settle yourself and tell us what you've heard when you're ready?"

Feste took a sip of the tea, his hands still shaking badly, not daring to look at Shylock who was glowering murderously at both of them. After a few minutes his hands steadied somewhat; he took a deep breath and was finally able to relay his news. He cautiously met Shylock's gaze.

"Antonio Romano lives," Feste told him.

The wooden arm rest of Shylock's chair splintered under his grip. Every fire in the underground stone room flared up and burned briefly cobalt blue. Feste averted his gaze and started to shake again.

"Is his condition better or worse?" Malvolio asked, putting a comforting hand on Feste's shoulder. Feste whispered into Malvolio's ear and then gave him a pleading look.

"Yes, you may go," Malvolio sighed. Feste scrambled out of the room as if Shylock had set his chair on fire.

 _I should have set his chair on fire,_ Shylock mused darkly.

"Is he worse?" Shylock demanded. "He should have been dead by sunrise! That was hours ago!"

"Let me heal your arm," Malvolio said with a disapproving frown. "Your temper is terrible when you are in pain and you are shit at healing anything larger than a scrape."

" _Is he worse_?!"

"NO," snapped Malvolio. "Another witch healed him in the night, he's in perfect health."

Shylock's roar of rage and hatred could be heard from the surface. Cobalt blue fire consumed the circular room full of books and preserved body parts that Portia had been kept in. None of those items were actually used for spells, that's why they kept the prisoners there. When the fire died down and returned to its natural color, the room was scorched but Shylock and Malvolio were unscathed. Malvolio stared at Shylock, looking wholly unimpressed.

"Are you done?" he asked blandly.

Shylock slumped in his smoking chair. The anger simmered in him, hot as lava and ready to explode again at any second. "Who did it? Who healed him?"

"A powerful spell like that, must have been Calpurnia or one of her people," Malvolio guessed.

"She wouldn't be so stupid," Shylock muttered. "That's a blatant violation of our treaty and he knows we can slaughter her and her entire coven in less than 24 hours."

"Who else would it be?" Malvolio asked, removing a pouch of earth and a vial of water from his belt.

"Damned if I know," Shylock muttered. Malvolio pulled up the less burned of the chairs next to him and unceremoniously rolled up Shylock's sleeve. He removed the bloodied bandage around Shylock's arm where the blonde girl, clearly a witch hunter, had shot him. He rubbed the dirt into the hole, then the water, and muttered a quick prayer over the mixture of mud. The mud turned to ash and sifted to the ground, revealing smooth skin underneath.

"We need to find out who the huntress is and who healed Antonio," Shylock muttered, rolling down his sleeve and wiping ash off his trousers.

"You're welcome for that, by the way," Malvolio mumbled.

Shylock sighed, "I am grateful to you, Malvolio, for all you do for me. You know this, why do I need to say it?"

Malvolio's lips formed a begrudging grin as he patted Shylock firmly on the shoulder. He stood and moved to the wash basin. "The huntress needs to be taken care of before our next phase of the plan."

"Escalus said he would tell the Pope to call of his dogs," Shylock said. "The fool knows his pretty wife's life is at stake, he will make it happen."

"If it comes to war the island will be crawling with witch hunters," Malvolio said. "It will be a blood bath."

"It won't come to way if we can get Escalus out of the way and me in his place," Shylock muttered.

"Very well, do we move forward finally or are you going to try to kill Antonio for a third time?"

"We move forward with the plan," Shylock said decisively, steepling his fingers under his chin. "And Antonio _will_ die by my hand. It's not about the money anymore, it's about pride. Who could take me seriously if I can't even kill a defenseless boy? But that will have to wait. Much needs to be done before we can take the next step…"

Thurio exhaled slowly. The rock beneath his fingers, which moments ago had ripped like water under his fingers, returned to solid stone. The two men conversing six feet of solid stone away had ceased crafting villainous schemes and talked on matters more suitable to a mug of ale and a cozy fire. At least as cozy as Shylock and Malvolio got.

Thurio had no time to lose. He threw his hood over his head and took off down the hall in long, purposeful strides. If any other members of Shylock's coven were to make an appearance, he would change his pace to the frantic, fumbling step of "Feste," the embarrassingly clumsy, harmless newest member of the coven.

False tunnels, twists, turns, and hidden corridors stood between him and the surface. Thurio, who was not new to being a warlock in the slightest, had (in only a few hours after first entry) memorized every aspect of the labyrinth of underground caves that Shylock's coven called home. He was not clumsy at all but quite clever, a master spell caster, and a Third Degree in Lady Calpurnia's coven. She had trusted him with the infiltration of Shylock's coven because of his skill in both acting and magic and his dedication to the triumph of good in the world.

Soon he was blinded by the glorious summer sun, and breathed deeply of the fresh air tinged with salt water. The entrance to the labyrinth was a just-barely man-sized hole in the face of a cluster of cliffs on the mainland's shore-line. A perilous stone stairway led down the cliff face to the rocky shore below. A non-magic user would have to tread very, _very_ carefully on the craggy, uneven steps, but Thurio took them in bounds. As he travelled downward, his appearance changed from the pimply, brown haired boy to the dark haired, olive skinned appearance he was born with. It wasn't necessary (it could even be dangerous) to change forms so close to the hideout, but wearing a face that wasn't his was like wearing a hemp coat over bare skin.

He reached the ground and set off on foot down the shoreline. 3 kilometers south was a town, and in that town there was a stable housing his horse. After a two hour walk and a hard ride that lasted almost an hour, he was at Lady Calpurnia's doorstep at just past noon.

He pounded on the door. From inside, he could hear Mrs. Brantley's voice crowing, "Blast it boy, be on your way and leave my lady alone!"

"Mrs. Brantley, it's Thurio," he intoned deeply through the oak door.

There was a pause, and then her voice came again, closer this time: "Password."

"Your late husband was an old curmudgeon with an ass like goat cheese and the wit of a barn door," Thurio grinned.

Mrs. Brantley swung the door wide open, a big smile on her wrinkled face. "It cheers me so to hear you say such sweet things, Thurio. Come in, come in! I'll send a boy out to water and rub down your horse."

"Thank you," Thurio said politely. "I must speak to Lady Calpurnia immediately. I overheard something today that is most alarming."

Mrs. Brantley sighed. "My poor lady never gets any rest. Well, if it is as urgent as all that, I will go wake her." She was gone only five minutes before a Lady Calpurnia descended to the main hall of her home. There were dark circles under her eyes and her wrinkles seemed more pronounced, but as exhausted as she seemed she still carried herself with elegance and pride. Thurio's chest swelled with the intense loyalty and admiration he felt for his mentor and friend.

She spoke no words to him, merely called for tea and waved for him to follow her into one of her many parlors. Upon entry to the room, Thurio cast a spell of silence around them at once. Lady Calpurnia nodded her approval and sat down in a big armchair by a cold hearth, gesturing for Thurio to join her in an identical chair across from her.

Even though there was a spell shielding their conversation from anyone but them, Thurio still felt the need to keep his voice low. "My Lady, I overheard Malvolio and Shylock conferring about a next step in this plan they are creating. I believe they are going to remove Prince Escalus from power and put Shylock in his place."

Lady Calpurnia's face tightened. Many years ago, before Escalus had met Lucia, he and Calpurnia had been lovers. When she trusted him enough to reveal that she was a witch, he shunned her and refused to see her again. She had loved him enough to respect his wishes and not take revenge, and although she had hated the man for a long time, part of her still loved him.

"The city would never accept Shylock as their leader," she said hoarsely.

"Are you unwell, Lady Calpurnia?" Thurio asked worriedly.

She smiled tiredly. "No need for formalities when it's just us, Thurio. And I'm quite well. I had to perform a late night healing spell on a man dying from black magic poisoning."

"So it _was_ you," Thurio whispered. "Calpurnia, that's… incredible. I've never heard of a healing spell so strong working with no negative effect on the person."

"There was a negative effect," Calpurnia said sadly. "He no longer remembers… But all this is hardly of consequence now. Shylock is a master of transformative spells. My guess is he will kill Escalus and take his place disguised as him."

"To what end?" Thurio asked.

"Power and greed drives him. He wants his city, this country, this world for himself. I haven't the faintest idea what he will do once in power, maybe station members of his coven on the Council and in positions of power and rule the city by his own law. It matters not. We cannot let this assassination happen. We have to warn him, but without revealing ourselves. Our peace is tenuous at best but if it breaks the city will burn."

"How do we warn him?"

"I'll think of something," Calpurnia said, the wrinkles on her brow deepening with determination. "Do they know it was me who healed Antonio Romano?"

"They suspect but Shylock knows that if it was we will have war…" Thurio murmured. "If I may ask… Why did you do it? It is tragic that Shylock is so determined to kill Antonio but you can't keep protecting the boy forever."

Calpurnia sighed. "It was foolish and a risk I shouldn't have taken… But someone made a convincing case for his life and… Maybe I am growing soft in my old age. Maybe this war is inevitable…"

Thurio was silent. They both were lost in horrifying images of friends, family, strangers dead in the streets and a city on fire. Calpurnia was the first to rouse herself.

"We mustn't lose hope," she said determinedly. "We can't afford to worry about the Romano boy. He does have some protection. There is a huntress staying with them, for reasons I do not yet know. She is young but she bears the mark of a warrior of Freya."

Thurio sucked in a surprised breath through his teeth. "Vanderbilt?"

"Maybe. They are not the only hunter family that follow the Old Ways."

"Do they pose a threat to our coven?"

"We should reach out to her, bring her in, and show her we are not like Shylock and his coven. If she is from one of the British families they may spare us if it comes to war. If she's American… well, they tend to prescribe to the "only good witch is a dead witch" line of thinking."

"We should have someone from the Church here, too. They can explain our arrangement," Thurio mused.

"The same arrangement that Shylock's coven has?" Calpurnia asked flatly. "Should we get the Pope himself down here to explain to her that she can't kill any witches that belong to the only two major covens on the island? Sorry, I shouldn't be harsh... Find out who she is, report back to me. We will move from there."


End file.
